Warlock and Son

by Christopher Stasheff

  "I shall rest, as I must," she sighed, "for I know full well that a wanderer's life would pall, and I would long for house and husband. Yet I may dream."

  Magnus smiled with sympathy. "Aye, at the least, we all may dream. That is not denied us, is it?"

  "To dream, aye." She rose in a graceful turn, took up the flask, and refilled his glass. "But only to dream-never to be free."

  "Even so," Magnus commiserated. "I have longed for such freedom, and do now seek it-yet I begin to suspect that I shall not find it." He sipped the wine.

  "How so?" The lady frowned. "Thou dost wander; how canst thou not be free?"

  "Why, for that I am still what I was reared to be," Magnus explained. "I look upon the peasants, and though they may scarce see more than a hundred square miles in their lives, they have a boisterousness, a looseness to their actions, that I have not, and never will. A nobleman, a gentleman, is born to restraint in action, lest he give cause for broils that may include hundreds-and he can never shake off the notion that the welfare of those about him is his care."

  She leaned toward him, and lowered her voice. "That others' happiness is thy concern?"

  "Aye." Magnus felt too warm, but he smiled. "Even though I've known them not, I know that all the folk of Gramarye must be as much my care as the King's and Queen's-and if they are sad, I feel the need to cheer them."

  "But I am sad." She leaned closer, and her eyes seemed huge. With a surge of lightheadedness, Magnus noticed that her neckline was cut lower than he had realized, and her lips were trembling with sadness....

  He leaned to those lips as if drawn by a magnet.

  For a minute, nothing existed in the world save her lips, and the sensations they aroused in him, the blood beginning to pound in his veins, the need for her so hot it would not be denied....

  He broke off, alarmed at himself. "Nay, lady," he gasped, "I am like to abuse thine hospitality." He set the goblet down and forced himself to his feet. "I cry thy pardon. I must away, ere I give offense......"

  "But if thou dost leave, though wilt most shrewdly offend!" she protested, her breath catching in a sob.

  Alarmed, Magnus turned back and saw her eyes overflowing with tears that ran down her cheeks as she looked up at him, forlorn. His heart twisted, and he reached down to comfort her, but she rose into his arms; her lips enveloped his, her body pressing against him, curves melding to his angles, churning against him with her need, moaning low in her throat; and his hands began to move over her back, then down, caressing her hips, and up, to cup her breasts....

  He broke off, staring down at her, seeing half-closed eyes, her shoulders bare as her gown slipped down, and his gaze was riveted to the high, soft curve of her breast....

  She caught his hand, pressed it up against that curve, and sought his lips again. The kiss was longer, more urgent; she mewed in her throat, almost sobbing, and Magnus traced the contours of her body, entranced....

  A crash, and a bellow.

  They sprang apart; then Magnus leaped between the lady and the door to shield her, but an iron gauntlet slammed into the side of his head and sent him reeling, a spear-point jabbed his ribs, and he looked up to see the guardsman who had confronted him at the church, leering with vindictive glee, while behind him, a terrible old man cuffed the woman as though she were a hound, bellowing, "Wanton! Traitress! A night gone, scarce three hours on the road, and thou hast found another fool to warm thy bed! Nay, thou hast stained mine honor once too oft, and never shall again!" He yanked his sword out of his scabbard, and the lady fell back, screaming.

  Magnus gathered himself and shot upward, knocking the spear aside and slamming into the guardsman. The man reeled back and Magnus twisted the halberd out of his hands, whirling toward Sir Spenser ...

  Just in time to see the lady spinning away with a scream, to slam into the wall. Her husband advanced on her, face red with rage ...

  ... and a blow struck Magnus from behind; he staggered, seeing stars, but anger flamed through him, and he turned as he hit the wall, to see the soldier swinging a club and two more guardsmen coming up behind him.

  Magnus sidestepped automatically, caught the man's wrist as it went by, and hurled the soldier against the stones. He whirled to parry one spear with his captured halberd, brought the butt around to crack the pate of the other guardsman and, as he fell, turned back to the second, parrying his next thrust and swinging the halberd-butt at his head. But the guardsman managed to block in time-and Magnus lashed a kick at his kneecap. The guard howled and fell, and Magnus turned ...

  To find.himself facing Sir Spenser, steel in his hand and blood in his eye, breathing in hoarse rasps and closing fast. Magnus almost turned and ran right then; the old man was a sight to make even the most hardened soldier quail, with his glaring eyes and gleaming sword. But training came to the fore, and Magnus whipped out his own blade, blocked a cut, riposted, parried, counterthrust, and settled down to some fast and furious fencing.

  The end was foretold-fifty years cannot last long against twenty, and the older man's experience and skill were countered by Magnus's training, which made him as adept as Sir Spenser, while his reflexes were faster and his endurance much longer. And, though Sir Spenser had thirty years' experience in battle, Magnus had fifteen that had started in his childhood. Outraged honor warred against frustrated hormones-but as the rage cooled, Magnus began to be able to think again, and contented himself with parrying and occasionally thrusting, just a little, to keep the older man off balance. Sir Spenser's breath came harder and harder, his movements slowed, and in ten minutes' time, Magnus caught his sword in a bind, slapped it from his hand, and pinned him against the wall. "Now, Sir Spenser," he said sternly, "though I've shamed myself as well as thee, thou shalt answer to thy peers for this day's deed, and I shall bear witness against thee."

  "And I will bear witness against thee," said a guardsman's voice behind, "that the lady was abed with thee when Sir Spenser came in this chamber. And thou, Nigel?"

  "I too," the second guardsman answered, and the third grunted assent.

  The lady cried out, and Magnus backed away to help her to her feet, never taking his eyes from the four men. One of the guardsmen made a tentative movement toward his fallen halberd, bu*. Magnus's sword tip flicked toward him, and the man halted.

  "Not a trial," the lady moaned, but Magnus didn't flinch. "What is a peasant's word, against a lord's? Nay, Sir Spenser, will you or nil you, you will stand before the assembled lords for this."

  "Why, then, I will, and there's not a one of them will blame me when they know the cause," the old knight growled. "I had thought to spare the lady public shame, and so forebore to charge her to her father's face when first I caught her in her adulterous games-yet I see I was wrong in my patience. Nay, if thou must needs shame her and her father before his peers, have at it! The lords of this dukedom shall meet in Sterling Meadow two days hence; I rode to meet them, when this loyal soldier came to warn me that a whelp was sniffing after my bitch."

  Magnus held his temper and made his own guess as to the guardsman's motives; loyalty was the least of them. The lady only sobbed and moaned, shaking her head.

  "Ah," Magnus breathed. "So that is the way of it, eh? That it may not come to court."

  "Do not humiliate me before them all!" the lady said through her tears.

  "I would not, though I've strong cause," Sir Spenser said, his face stony. "Wouldst thou be so cruel, youngling?"

  "Nay," Magnus said slowly. He straightened, sheathing his sword, but turning so he could keep an eye on the guardsmen. "Dost thou wish satisfaction of me, then?"

  Sir Spenser's eye kindled, but he said with regret, "I've had what I may. Get thee gone."

  "Why, so I will," Magnus said slowly, "yet I hesitate to leave this lady to thy revenge."

  She moaned and clutched at his sleeve.

  Sir Spenser gave them both a look of disgust, then said, "I will visit her with no punishment."

  The lady went limp, so
bbing.

  "Yet I'll not keep her by to shame me more," he added, his voice grinding. "Back to thy father, lady! And do not think to tell him lies, for I and all my men will meet him in Sterling Meadow in two days' time, to tell him of thine infidelity."

  "No-o-o-o," she moaned. "Not my father! And how should I face my mother? The shame.. ."

  And the punishment, Magnus realized-but within the family. It was no concern of his.

  "Thou hast forfeited thy place by me," the older knight growled. "I shall not divorce thee, for 'twould shame me as much as thee, and thou shalt have thy dower lands again, to dwell on in what comfort thou mayest-but we cannot live as husband and wife more, for thou hast broke that bond." He looked up at Magnus, and his voice was a whip crack. "Take her hence! I wish thee joy of her!"

  Magnus knew very well that he would have no joy of such a woman-he wouldn't be able to trust her for a second. On the other hand, he couldn't just leave her in the forest alone. They came out of the castle, to find two grooms holding their horses. The grooms helped the lady to mount her palfrey, and she and Magnus rode off into the forest, he silent, she weeping.

  But as soon as the leaves closed about them, she turned on him. "And a fine knight-errant thou art! Couldst thou not defend me from his anger? Thou, who didst seek to seduce me, and would have forced me had he not burst in upon us?"

  The unfairness of the lie struck Magnus speechless. He could only stare at her for the moment.

  " 'Tis thine advances have left me bereft of house and place!" she said hotly. "Nay, I am therefore thy charge now, to house and feed! Thou must needs take me to the altar!"

  The horror of the prospect jolted Magnus out of his stupefaction. "Why, what a lying shrew art thou! 'Twas thou didst bend thy wiles to seduce me, and hast brought this coil upon thyself!"

  "Liar!" she screamed, and her hand swept around for a ringing slap. "I am a lady bred! Never would I stoop to such indignity!"

  Cold rage cleared his head, and Magnus narrowed his eyes, probing with his mind.

  She must have been mildly telepathic herself, for she screamed, clutching at her head, and he felt her horror at the mind-probe. "Thou art a witch!"

  "A warlock." He barely glimpsed her memory of the event, but knew that she was aware that he had seen it. "Warlock or witch, thou art surely no gentlemen, thus to peer among a woman's secrets! Nay, thou art wholly undeserving of knighthood, for thou art most unchivalrous!" She bowed her head, weeping bitterly, a broken woman.

  But Magnus knew better now than to trust appearances. "I am no knight, but a squire only; I have not sought higher rank. Thou hast the right in that, if in naught else. Surely there is no truth in thy claim that I am in any wise beholden to thee for thy welfare, for thou hast played this game with many men before me."

  "Mine husband lied, in saying . . ." Her hot accusation trailed off as she looked into Magnus's eyes. "Nay, thou wilt seek within my mind to prove thy contention again, wilt thou not?" she whispered.

  "Nay." Magnus's lip curled. "Yet there are witnesses, I doubt not-the servants and, though thou mayest not have thought, the Wee Folk. Hast thou kept thine hearths clean, and left them their bowls of milk?" He paused, long enough to see in her face that she had not. "They owe thee no debt of gratitude, and will not lie for thee. Shall I call them to testify?"

  She hesitated just long enough to realize that a warlock probably could do just that, and be answered; then she took refuge in anger again. "Thou canst not know the shame and horror of forced marriage! Of maidenly dreams of love, torn asunder by a forced coupling with an aged partner who doth inspire in thee naught but disgust!"

  Magnus did feel a stirring of sympathy; he had experience that enabled him to imagine.

  "I, but a lass of sixteen!" she cried. "Nay, canst thou be amazed that I found no delight in him? Can it astound thee that I took my pleasure where I might?"

  Magnus did feel sorry for her, but realized it was the course of folly to admit it. "Yet thou didst take that pleasure with no thought for the hurt or shame thou didst heap upon thine husband, or even on thy lovers."

  "What concern had they for me?" she demanded. "What concern hadst thou? Did any of thee care for aught but the pleasure of my body? Nay, if thou hast had shame, thou and they, thou hast had naught but thy just desserts!" She glared up at him. "Or wilt thou tell me thou hadst true concern for me?"

  "Nay," Magnus admitted, "yet I do pity thee. Therefore will I conduct thee to thy father's house, and see thee safely there-yet no further."

  "Oh, valiant man!" Her words dripped scorn. "O squire worthy of knighthood! Hast thou no thought for the shame that shall be mine? Aye, my father may yet grant me my dower house-yet there he will be sure that I shall live alone, apart from all folk of any degree, the jest of the other ladies, and never again to know human company-for a castoff wife is better dead!"

  That, Magnus knew, was true. Medieval society was hardly generous to those who were divorced, especially females.

  "It falls to thee," she snapped. "Thou wast the final cause of my humiliation. 'Tis for thee to give me place and station among my peers! 'Tis for thou to call for annulment, and to marry me! Come, carry me off! Steal me away! For there is no man but must have a woman in his charge!"

  "Wherefore I, and not one of these other young men who have shared thy bed?" Magnus snapped.

  "For that they have fled!"

  "Why, then, so shall I. Lady, farewell!" Magnus turned his horse into the underbrush, but the crashing of scrub growth couldn't drown out her scream of rage.

  He didn't go far, of course just a dozen feet off the road, just out of sight but not out of hearing. He shadowed her as she rode on down the track, weeping as though she were heartbroken. Magnus felt pity stir within him, but told himself sternly that she was not his care. Nonetheless, he followed, wanting to be sure of her safety. He endured listening to her rail against all men, cataloguing their duplicities and wickedness; he heard her vicious cries of hatred, and rejoiced that he had turned away. Nonetheless, under the circumstances, he found that he could blame himself as much as her.

  Then suddenly, five men burst out of the trees, surrounding the lady and catching her horse's bridle. The palfrey reared, neighing in alarm, but the men wrestled it back down. The lady screamed, but the biggest man clapped a filthy hand over her mouth and laughed. They were all slovenly and unkempt, crusted with dirt and reeking of grime. They brayed, chortling:

  "Why, what a prize is here!"

  "Thou dost hate men, dost thou, sweetling? Nay, we'll give thee greater cause!"

  "Thou dost wish a husband, dost thou? We'll give thee five!"

  The leader took his hand from her mouth, letting forth a tearing scream that was cut off as he clamped his own mouth over hers, pricking her throat with a dagger. She froze, wideeyed in fear, not daring to close her teeth.

  Magnus burst out of the roadside with a roar, laying about him with his sword. A man howled and fell with blood spreading over his nose; another bellowed and turned to fight, but flinched away with a yelp as Magnus's point scored his arm. The other three turned on Magnus with clubs and a rusty sword, but they were poorly trained indeed; he knocked their weapons aside with a dozen blows.

  Then a club cracked on his shoulder, no doubt aimed for his head. He howled, and his right arm went limp. The other outlaws shouted victory and leaped for him, but Magnus reached out with his mind to twist the weapons from their hands, even as he caught an outlaw's club with his left hand and began to lay about him almost as efficiently as with his right.

  "A witch!" one of the outlaws howled.

  "Warlock!" Magnus bellowed, and cracked the man's pate. He laid about him, knocking down the others with three quick blows, then watched them roll about and moan, clutching at their heads, while he stood panting, only just beginning to be aware of the pain in his shoulder.

  Then he turned to the lady. "They have not hurt thee, have they?"

  "Nay, only filled me with loathing-thanks to
thee. But thou art hurted!"

  "The arm is only stunned, and will return to function presently." Magnus didn't say anything about the pain.

  "I thought thou wert fled."

  "I was, yet could not let thee travel at hazard. I heard thee cry, and came to ward thee. Go now to thy gate straightaway, madam, and do not tarry." He turned to the outlaws, who had regained their senses and were trying to creep away into the woods. He caught the biggest one by the front of his tunic and yanked his face up to within an inch of his own. "Get thee hence," he snarled, "and tell all thy fellows that this lady doth ride under the ward of a warrior who is a warlock as well. If any should seek to touch a hair of her head, I'll appear and cleave his pate. Dost ken what I've said, sirrah?"

  The man nodded, face working in fear. "Ah-aye, milord."

  "Then go!" Magnus flung him away; he staggered back, sprawling against a tree trunk. "Take thy mates," Magnus added, "and tell them what I've bade thee. Get thee hence!" The outlaw fairly yanked his companions to their feet and turned them away, with frightened glances back over their shoulders. They carried the one with the wounded leg, and disappeared into the forest.

  The lady started to speak, but Magnus ignored her and rode again into the woods, hearing her scream in impotence, "Wretch! Dog! Swine!" Then she broke off weeping, and turned her horse back down the road.

  Magnus hardened his heart and followed at some distance, mind open, listening for any others. Twice that afternoon he detected outlaws lying in wait, heads filled with avarice and lust, but with an underlying fear of the warlock they'd heard of. He nurtured that fright, touching their minds with a hint of nameless dread, and felt them think better of their plan, then turn away to slink back into the wood.

  At length she came to her father's gate. The sentries before the drawbridge straightened in surprise and cried out, "Lady Maisy!"

  Magnus turned away; she was safe now-and he didn't want to hear the anguish of her explanation to her father. He felt consumed with guilt at her suffering, since it was in part his fault-but he reminded himself that she had initiated the incident, not he, and that he was only the latest in a series of lovers she had invited. Yes, he was guilty, but not to the point of having any responsibility for her actions. Her father would have to claim a larger part of that, having forced her to marry a man she did not love-but, when all was said and done, the greatest part of the blame was her own. She had not had to retaliate by promiscuity; that had been her own decision. That, no one had made her do; she had taken it upon herself. She would have to answer for her own deeds.